


to the moon and back

by honeyfoozle



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Space, Astronauts, Bittersweet Ending, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Smut, Read the tags please, Scarless Zuko (Avatar), they're astronauts in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyfoozle/pseuds/honeyfoozle
Summary: If Zuko were to write down a list of things he likes, space would be on top of it, followed directly by Sokka. Perhaps the two might even be tied. This truth scares Zuko, because he loves space alot.Zuko’s passionate regard for the vast, unknown cosmos makes sense to him; who wouldn’t be invigorated by it? To possess such extreme feelings towards another person, though…young as he may be, Zuko is pretty sure that goes beyond friendship.OR:Two boys and their journey to walk on the moon.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 104
Kudos: 207





	to the moon and back

**Author's Note:**

> written while listening to [force of nature](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ynw0fGVZcU0) by bea miller on repeat. listening while reading is highly recommended <3
> 
> 12/11/20: this work now has [fanart](https://in-the-mists.tumblr.com/post/637161451973492736/i-was-going-to-post-this-literal-ages-ago-but-a)! I do recommend finishing the story first before looking at it though, to avoid spoilers :) xx thank you to the lovely reader/artist for this piece!

Zuko is nine years old. It’s his very first day of Space Camp and he shuffles his feet, waiting in line for check-in. One hand firmly grasps his mother’s while the other clutches his plush astronaut. Looking around, he takes in the Space & Rocket Center Museum with wide, eager eyes. He adjusts his orange flight suit, making sure it’s fully zipped and perfectly crisp. He’s anxious, but one thought prevails above all: _‘this is going to be the best week ever.’_

“Hey, I like your doll!”

Zuko startles at the sudden voice. He turns around to meet a boy who must be his age, with large blue eyes and a big, toothless smile.

“It’s not a doll,” Zuko mumbles, looking down. 

“Is too,” the boy says, but he doesn’t sound malicious. Instead, he looks at the toy longingly. “And I want one! Where’d ya get it?”

Zuko looks to his mom for help. She smiles down at him with warm eyes, an encouragement to speak for himself. He clears his throat.

“M-my mom got it for me at Toys R Us.”

“That’s so cool!”

Zuko smiles a little. No one has ever cared about his space trinkets before. At school, they’re met with indifference or ridicule. Once, a group of boys grabbed the plushie from him and threw it in a puddle of mud. Zuko had run off the bus crying, and his mom spent days washing and re-washing to get the stains out.

But…this boy likes space, just like Zuko does. And he thinks the toy is _cool._ Zuko feels a hesitant sense of prospect wash over him; does this boy want to be friends?

“Y-you can hold it if you want.” Zuko stammers a bit, clinging to the pleasant feeling of being accepted.

He offers the plushie out to the boy, who gasps and goes wide-eyed before grabbing it eagerly. The boy tugs his dad’s arm in excitement, gesturing to the toy as though he hadn’t seen the entire display firsthand. But the man just chuckles and shakes his head, turning to address Zuko’s mom.

“My name’s Hakoda. And if you can’t tell, my son Sokka _kind of_ wants to be an astronaut someday.”

“So does my Zuko,” his mom steps in with a laugh, squeezing Zuko’s hand affectionately. “Ursa, by the way.”

 _‘Sokka.’_ Zuko thinks, blinking at the boy. Somehow, the name suits him perfectly.

Ursa and Hakoda fall into some small talk while they wait in line; apparently, having two space-obsessed nine-year olds gives them plenty to bond over. This leaves Sokka to play with Zuko’s toy and Zuko to watch with curious, timid eyes. He doesn’t know what to say, really—it’s not often he’s approached by other kids in non-threatening ways.

“I’m gonna go to the moon someday,” Sokka finally says with a huge grin, handing Zuko back the plushie.

And just like that, all of the ice is broken. Zuko’s face splits into a wide smile and he beams, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. Yeah, this is _definitely_ someone he can get along with.

“Me, too!”

Zuko spends the entire week by Sokka’s side. They eat all their meals together, partner up for every activity, and sleep in the same bunk bed; Sokka even lets Zuko have the top bunk.

There’s something easy and likeable about Sokka, though Zuko can’t pinpoint what. He knows all about the concept of gravity, or the force by which a planet draws objects towards its center. Zuko wonders if Sokka has somehow harnessed this phenomenon, because the kids at Space Camp are just…drawn to him. They all want to talk with him, partner up with him and hang out with him.

In stark contrast, Zuko is regarded with indifference; if there’s a method to harness gravity, he’s a long way from figuring it out. But maybe, just maybe, Zuko has a pull on someone. Because each time Zuko—quiet and docile as he is—is inevitably pushed to the outskirts of the circle, Sokka reels things back with a _‘hey, has anyone seen Zuko’s cool toy yet?’_

He doesn’t know how it happened, but by the end of the week Zuko had officially made his first real friend. Maybe even _best_ friend.

Zuko sneaks into the cubby room on the last day of camp, an excited smile plastered on his face. He locates Sokka’s blue bag, which is covered with NASA and planet stickers. With no time to waste, he slips his astronaut plushie inside of it, pushing it down to the very bottom so Sokka will have a nice surprise once he gets home and unpacks. Attached to the toy is a simple note Zuko wrote himself: _‘For Sokka.’_

\---

Zuko is 15 years old. He waits in line eagerly, ready for his first year of Advanced Space Academy. Next to him, Sokka is just as excited. Their flight suits are covered in badges; one for each year they’ve attended the week-long camp. This year marks their seventh.

At this point, Zuko doesn’t remember life before Sokka; all he knows is it was dreadful and boring. No one to talk to, no one to play with, no one to dream about space with. The only downside of their friendship is the distance between them; they live a few states away and therefore attend different schools. To mitigate this, Ursa and Hakoda set them up as pen pals during the academic year.

And so, Zuko’s locker at school is flooded with notes from Sokka. They write about this or that; mostly space. On each note, Sokka makes sure to doodle a picture of them on the moon, holding hands and smiling wide in their astronaut gear. _‘Us someday!’_ He always scribbles with vigor, pointing three arrows at the little work of art. Zuko keeps every single one.

The notes are enough to keep them in sync until summer, when they see each other as much as possible. And it starts with the best week of them all: Space Camp. 

“My sister has a _boyfriend_ now; can you believe it?” Sokka breaks the comfortable silence next to him.

“Wow,” Zuko says. “Isn’t she like, 12?”

“She’s almost 13. But still! When I was that age—just no.” Sokka scrunches his nose. “I don’t think I had a crush on anyone until I was…” He stops himself. “Um, older.”

“Oh, yeah.” Zuko’s voice is a little gruff. “Me, neither.”

Well, _that_ just opened up a can of worms. One that Zuko has tried his best to ignore.

All around him, the cootie days are over. At school, boys and girls start to date, and it isn’t embarrassing to have a crush anymore. Azula always questions Zuko at home; _‘are you dating anyone? Who do you even like?’_ And he manages to shrug it off with a vague answer each time. Because, really, he has no idea.

If Zuko were to write a list of things he likes, space would be on the top of that list, followed directly by Sokka. Perhaps the two might even be tied. This truth scares Zuko, because he loves space a _lot._ It’s his calling, his destiny—it’s what he intends to commit his life to. 

Zuko’s passionate regard for the vast, unknown cosmos makes sense to him; who wouldn’t be invigorated by it? To possess such extreme feelings towards another _person_ , though…young as he may be, Zuko is pretty sure that goes beyond friendship.

Thankfully, he’s able to forget about his strife once they complete check-in. And by the time they’re split into teams and building a Rover, Zuko doesn’t even remember what he was confused about in the first place. Summer’s here, and he’s learning about space with Sokka. It’s exactly where he’s supposed to be; really, Zuko has never been _less_ confused.

The week flies by, as it always does. But when Zuko checks out of the Space & Rocket Center Museum on Sunday morning, he still has an entire two months of freedom left.

For him and Sokka, the heat of July is the peak of their seasonal carousel. Summertime is _their_ time. It’s a time for as many playdates and sleepovers as possible. They go to planetariums and conduct science experiments (usually leaving the house a mess). They draw the solar system in chalk on the pavement and stay up for every single meteor shower.

But their favorite tradition occurs on the clearest summer nights, when they drag their bedrolls outside and sleep under the stars. Tonight happens to be one of those nights. But—Zuko can hardly contain his excitement—there’s something _extra_ special about this night, something even better than a crystal-clear sky.

This past year, Zuko has managed to save up and buy a high-end telescope. And tonight feels like the perfect time to introduce it.

Barefoot and in their pajamas, the two boys pad to Zuko’s backyard, excited whispers urging each other to keep quiet. They tiptoe down the wooden deck stairs and step onto the dewy, lush lawn. Zuko plops the tripod down, adjusting the telescope nozzle so it points directly into the sky.

“You look first,” Zuko says with a huge smile. It’s the same smile he wore stuffing his toy astronaut into the depths of Sokka’s bag, all those years ago.

“Me? It’s your telescope!” Sokka looks incredulous at the offer, but he eyes the telescope with aching curiosity. 

“I want you to see it first.” Zuko sits down on the cool grass, resting his head in his hands. He gestures to his telescope again. “The moon.”

Sokka gives him a grateful grin before crouching down, lining himself up with the eyepiece. For a few moments, silence falls between them. Sokka moves the tube around a bit, mouth dropped open in concentration. Finally he pauses, face beaming as he gapes through the lens.

“Wow,” Sokka breathes. “Zuko, it’s…wow. This is amazing.”

“You see it?”

“I see it.”

Sokka steps back and gestures for Zuko to look. Zuko peers through the eyepiece and waggles the nozzle around a bit, until the full moon is centered in his view.

“Wow,” he echoes Sokka’s reaction in a stunned exhale.

“Pretty amazing, huh?”

“I see everything!” Zuko exclaims, squinting a little as he makes out the shadows and craters. “I see Copernicus, and Mare Serenitatis…” he feels himself grin from ear to ear.

They spend the rest of the night taking turns with the telescope, observing everything they possibly can. They gape at star clusters, point in awe at Mars and ogle at any visible galaxies. Their moonwalker dreams are fueled, not only by the celestial space above but by each other’s sheer enthusiasm for it.

Eventually they put the telescope away, opting to sit side by side in the damp grass as dawn begins to color the sky. They’re silent in their admiration of the universe, serene in each other’s presence.

“Thanks for sharing your telescope with me,” Sokka says. Contrary to his usual, sanguine tone, he sounds a little shy.

“You can use it any time you want.” Zuko turns to him and grins. “Space is way more fun with you, anyways.”

There’s a brief silence. Sokka shifts his body closer to Zuko’s.

“Um. Can I…hold your hand, Zuko?”

Zuko blinks. When he turns to Sokka, his friend has a dusting of red on his cheeks. He twiddles his fingers, looking down with the same apprehension one might wear when they’re about to jump into a vast, unexplored ocean. 

But Sokka took the jump anyways. And the implications of the question aren’t lost on Zuko. He isn’t afraid, though. Instead, his first thought is to wonder what took Sokka so long to ask.

Zuko intertwines their fingers as an answer, giving Sokka a bashful smile before returning his gaze to the fading stars. His voice is quiet but sure.

“You don’t have to ask, you know.”

\---

Zuko is 22 years old. It’s his senior year of college; in a few weeks, he’ll graduate with a degree in electrical engineering. As winter bleeds into spring, his steps become a little lighter and he breathes a little easier. He’s really done it. It hasn’t been easy, but he’s one step closer to achieving his dreams. One step closer to becoming an astronaut.

And of course, he couldn’t have done it without Sokka.

Sokka, his roommate for the past four years. His partner through it all. His…everything. They introduce each other as best friends, but truly, their relationship defies categorization. The only thing Zuko knows for sure is that when he envisions the rest of his life, Sokka is there every step of the way. Just like he always has been.

Now, they stumble out of a dingy house party they weren’t even invited to, boozed up and laughing hysterically. Sokka has a lazy arm draped around Zuko’s waist and they lean into each other, trudging back to their shared apartment under the twinkling stars.

“This is my favorite kind of night,” Sokka says, the moon reflecting brilliantly in his eyes. 

Zuko says nothing, staring at Sokka with the same awe he reserves for infinity itself.

“Crystal clear,” Sokka continues. “You can just…see everything.” He tears his eyes from the sky to look back at Zuko, a dazed but sincere smile on his face. “I can’t wait to go there with you, Zuko.”

Zuko hums in agreement, unable to convey with just how deeply he shares that sentiment.

He doesn’t resist when Sokka drags him to the abandoned field just a block down from their complex. It isn’t the first time they’ve done this, and—even though they’ll be off campus for good in a few weeks—it definitely won’t be the last.

Their hands are all over each other. Declarations of love are muffled by hungry kisses, shed clothes are blanketed by the night sky. They make love under the full moon, Sokka whispering sweet nothings into Zuko’s ear and Zuko grasping at every inch of Sokka he can. Tears prick the corners of his eyes as he climaxes, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. It’s messy, it’s desperate, it’s heated; it’s a moment frozen in time. And Zuko feels himself lock it away to cherish forever.

If he never makes it to space, then at least he’s had _this._

In the afterglow, Sokka pulls him close and presses a kiss to his temple. His eyes convey it all, but he says it anyways.

“It’s you and me, Zuko. Always.”

Zuko curls into him. “Always.”

The next morning, Zuko decides to make breakfast for the both of them. Sokka—never the morning person between the two—doesn’t even stir when Zuko kisses his cheek and slips out of bed.

Zuko has quite the to-do list, starting with finishing his pre-requisites for the PhD program himself and Sokka have been admitted to. A degree in astrophysics won’t be easy, but it will significantly elevate both of them as astronaut candidates. He ticks off as many boxes as he can while preparing a simple breakfast of omelets, home fries and fruit. 

He smiles when a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist. Sokka rubs his stubble-afflicted face into the crook of his neck and Zuko giggles, pushing him away with no real fight.

“You don’t need to cook for me, baby.” Sokka’s words vibrate against the slope of Zuko’s shoulder. “You have enough to do already.” 

“I figured you’d feel like crap.” Zuko turns away from him with a knowing grin and flips over the omelet. “And you do too, by the way.”

“Somehow, I feel okay. I think it’s because my super adorable roommate made me drink a ton of water last night.”

The years haven’t dulled the impact of Sokka’s flirtation. Zuko feels his cheeks heat up and a warmth settle in his core. Sokka gives him another squeeze before letting go and bounding to the living room.

“Alright, then. You make breakfast and I’ll find some reputable scuba instructors.”

Another preferred step towards becoming an astronaut. One, like every other step, that they would take together.

Ten minutes later, breakfast is ready. The goofy, childish side of Zuko (a side that only Sokka is privy to) decides Sokka’s plate needs a little extra _oomph_. With a steady hand, Zuko squeezes hot sauce onto his omelet with as much decorative flair as his strictly left-brained self can muster.

The end result is a two stick figures standing on a circle—“it’s the moon, Sokka! Your dumb drawings, remember?” he has to explain only minutes later—and wavy, uneven letters that read: _‘For Sokka.’_

Sokka laughs, then he kisses Zuko, then he takes a picture of the plate on his phone. Finally, they dig in.

\---

Zuko is 27 years old. 18,000 applicants to NASA and only 12 were selected as astronaut candidates. Zuko doesn’t have time to consider how utterly mind blowing it is that himself _and_ Sokka are among them.

In less extreme circumstances, he would take the time to come up with an explanation, most likely involving some insane cosmic irony. Some manifested, grandiose cause and effect that lands them both at the Johnson Space Center in Houston, stuffed into NASA flight suits before entering what would be their most arduous, intense two years yet.

But they remind themselves just that; two years. Two years until yet another accolade, the one they’ve chased their entire lives: a certified astronaut (“as if being electrical engineers and doctors of astrophysics isn’t enough”, Hakoda and Ursa often quip, but they beam with pride all the while).

And then they think back to their first year of Space Camp, now almost twenty years ago. They think of this, and they grin at each other often. Underwater in the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, they grin at each other. Suiting up to pilot a NASA T-38 training jet, their eyes meet easily and they grin. Experiencing reduced gravity for the first time in the KC-135 (also fondly referred to as the Vomit Comet), they can’t stop excited smiles from stretching across their faces.

They’ve come this far. Two years is _nothing._

They communicate, wordlessly and frequently; _‘our dreams are coming true, together.’_ And although their passion (for space? For each other? The two haven’t felt separate for a long, long time) doesn’t overshadow the ultimately grueling preparation, it does make it easier.

And the preparation is just that: grueling. There’s a common saying in astronaut training: ‘there is no problem so bad that you can’t make it worse.’ It’s meant to put danger into perspective. Outer space is a vast, unknown vacuum; a single worst-case scenario cannot possibly exist. So, since there is no way to prepare for the absolute worst, they prepare for everything else. It’s humbling, it’s fear-numbing, it’s invigorating all at once.

And they _learn._ They learn about the intricacies of space shuttles, about every corner of the International Space Station, about medical procedures within their realm of practice. It comes fast, and it comes all at once. Zuko always knew his best friend was special, but Sokka confirms his status as a full-fledged prodigy by absorbing everything with borderline ease.

What’s more—Sokka never fails to tell Zuko how proud he is of him. How proud he is of _them._ In a profession that encourages cutthroat competition, they move as a unit, even still.

They’re in sync with each other, like the earth and the moon. Should Zuko _really_ delve into this analogy (and he has) he’d argue immediately that between the two, Sokka is the moon. As the brightest, largest object in the night sky, the moon makes earth a more hospitable place. In the same way the moon stabilizes climate and guides the tides, Sokka’s presence in Zuko’s life provides him with security, direction and balance.

Without the moon, the nights would be pitch black, the tides would change and the concept of time itself would alter. Without Sokka…Zuko imagines the analogy would continue to apply in an equally devastating sense.

He tells Sokka these very thoughts one night, lying in bed. They never hesitate to share the innermost workings of their minds, though Zuko’s train of thought tends to be far more flowery and far less tangible than Sokka’s concrete, no-nonsense approach.

(And if Zuko’s ever had a flowery thought in his life, it’s that Sokka is the moon and he is the earth. It’s quite possibly the most hopelessly romantic thing he’s ever said.)

But for Sokka, space-related ponderings are always welcome. And for Sokka, Zuko’s thoughts are always welcome.

“You’re acting like you being earth is the lame one,” Sokka says without missing a beat. “That you need me, and I don’t need you.” 

“I mean.” Zuko fiddles with the hem of his pajama shirt. Did he really just air his deepest, most insecure ruminations under the guise of an ornate comparison? “I don’t know.”

“Without the force of gravity from earth, the moon would float aimlessly in space. No direction, no purpose.”

Zuko opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off.

“And that’s why your analogy is completely accurate. Just not the way you see it.”

Sokka wraps an arm around Zuko and pulls him close, one hand secure on the small of his back. The other tucks Zuko’s head into the crook of his neck, giving his scalp a few loving scratches. Zuko sighs, melting into the warmth.

“You don’t see how _brilliant_ you are, Zuko. Brighter than a damn quasar. I’d be so fucking lost without you, baby, you have no idea.”

It isn’t the first time Sokka has said this. It won’t be the last. Maybe someday, Zuko will believe him.

\---

Zuko is 28 years old. Each day he sheds a layer of his starry-eyed cocoon, teetering the line between naïve trainee and realized astronaut. The evolution is gradual; bumpy at the worst of times but spectacular at the best. And Sokka is right there with him, shedding his own inhibitions as they plant firm feet in the doors of their future.

But training to become an astronaut isn’t a sepia-tone reel of emotional peaks. Most of the time, it’s the very opposite. Space—as they’re constantly reminded—is an infinite, uncertain vacuum. And in alignment with the vast unknown they intend to traverse, Zuko’s mood goes from elated to afflicted that very week.

The day begins on a high note. Despite the characteristic Houston heat, Sokka and Zuko are restless with excitement. Today, after extensive measurements and fittings, they will don pressure suits for the first time. It’s a loaded accomplishment; the suits they wore only in their wildest dreams are now fitted just for them.

Zuko has to pinch himself. Amazingly, his wildest dreams are now a sudden reality. _How did he get so lucky—_

As the gear is introduced to trainees, though, the warm air chills as a sudden, absolute realization strikes Zuko.

Terrifyingly, his wildest dreams are now a sudden reality.

He and Sokka—they’re far more than a few ‘lucky’ applicants. They’re more than students. They’re full-fledged candidates who will soon be qualified for take-off into the celestial space above. For the first time, Zuko feels the seeds of panic plant in his core. 

It takes one pair of helping hands and over 30 minutes to tug on the seven layers of intricate, purposeful gear. Plenty of time for Zuko take in its details and calculate the disastrous outcomes of a malfunction. When their instructor explains that the suits have “10 minutes of life support”, Zuko ponders why his childhood dream is to toe a thin line between the tedious, life-sustaining properties of a manmade suit and the certain death of outer space without it.

The helmet is the last step, and Zuko aligns it over his head with shaking hands, trying desperately to calm himself. _‘How does it go again? One small step for man…?’_ His heart thumps in his chest; the 250-pound suit is impossibly heavy, confined and limiting against the force of gravity. It’s clunky and claustrophobic, nothing at all the weightless sensation he achieves in his dreams. His eyes scan for Sokka, skimming over his crewmates and dully noting that none betray an ounce of fear.

Sokka is already looking at him. His helmet is secured, the glass slide not yet pulled down and face clearly visible. He stares at Zuko, two brows knit together and a small frown on his face.

Zuko doesn’t even have to explain himself—Sokka already knows. And Zuko hates himself for it, because Sokka _deserves_ for this moment to be life changing. He deserves to feel it for everything it’s worth. But instead Sokka prioritizes Zuko’s rising panic, eyes full of empathy and any sense of accomplishment pushed aside.

They can’t embrace each other. Not in front of everyone, and certainly not in pressure suits. They can’t even exchange a word; the room is crowded with employees and trainees, fussing to finish the gear-up process.

“I love you,” Sokka mouths, steady eyes assuring Zuko to keep calm amidst the chaos. His expression demands Zuko’s total attention; Zuko busies his mind with taking in the fullness of his lips, the slight bags under his eyes, the subtle laugh lines around his mouth. It isn’t enough to completely soothe his racing heart, but it’s all they can manage for now.

Zuko snaps his helmet on, pulling the glass mask down before anyone catches sight of his watering eyes.

He keeps his cool throughout simulation, attending to the mock-up as though they were on a real mission. But at the end of the day, after an incredibly tedious undressing process, he’s just about reached his breaking point.

“Talk to me,” Sokka says the second they’re alone.

They stand in a secluded hallway, just outside the control room. Zuko’s already shaky grip on himself loosens when he sees Sokka’s open, loving expression.

“I—” Zuko tries, but his throat constricts. He chokes out a half-sob, leaning against the wall and sliding down until he’s sat on the ground. He releases a long, shaky breath.

“What is it, baby?”

“I d-don’t—I mean, wh-what are we—” Zuko begins to hyperventilate, curling his head into his hands. He’ll let himself fall apart, but only in front of Sokka.

“Zuko. Zuko! Calm down.” Sokka shushes him gently, bending down until they’re eye level. He pries his hands under Zuko’s, cupping his face with calloused hands and urging him to look up. “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

“What are we thinking?” Zuko says, shaking now. “We can’t do this! This is crazy—go to _space?_ What are we _on?”_

“Zuko, baby, please.” Sokka strokes his cheekbone with a loving thumb. Then he laughs a bit. “This isn’t some last-minute decision, you know.”

“But I’m not—I’m not good enough. I’m not smart enough. If something goes wrong, I…”

“Oh, Zuko.” Sokka looks hurt at Zuko’s betrayal of poor self-esteem. His eyes are sad, his voice is soft. “You know that isn’t true.”

“I’m—I feel _so_ in over my head, Sokka. Holy shit.”

“Zuko. You’ve never been more prepared for anything in your life.”

Sokka pulls Zuko out of his shell, tugging him into a huge embrace. He strokes Zuko’s hair, murmurs words of affirmation in his ear. Mostly, he just encourages Zuko to let it all out. And Zuko does.

He has no words left, only strangled sobs as the pressure crushes him. He clings to Sokka as though gravity doesn’t exist, as though he’ll float away if he lets go. Sokka adjusts his position so that his back rests against the wall, curling Zuko in his lap and rocking them both back and forth. Eventually, the heaving of Zuko’s chest calms to slow, steady breathes.

“We’ve trained our whole lives for this, baby.” Sokka talks into his hair, voice creating a pleasant, tingling vibration. “You _are_ good enough, Zuko. Please, please never forget that.”

Sokka’s voice roots him back to earth. His touch grounds him. Zuko can’t convey his appreciation for the man holding him tight, so he presses a languid kiss to his lips instead.

\---

Without the moon, the nights would be pitch black, the tides would change and the concept of time itself would alter.

Zuko is 31 years old. He got the call almost two months ago. Some freak car accident. The details don’t matter.

He sits alone in his apartment, clutching the small astronaut plushie that Sokka never got rid of. All of Sokka’s things are exactly where he left them, and Zuko has no intentions to rearrange them. There’s a basket of clean laundry he never put away, an unmade side of the bed, a stray t-shirt left on the bathroom floor. Ursa had visited Zuko last week, and Zuko grabbed her hand when she tried to pick it up.

Zuko tried to explain himself—why couldn’t she pick up a dirty old t-shirt for him?—but was possessed by relentless, heaving sobs. Sobs that left his face swollen. Sobs that left his eyes bloodshot. Ursa understood. And now, the shirt remains untouched on his bathroom floor.

He doesn’t get out of bed in the morning. He doesn’t eat. He sleeps as often as he can.

Sokka died a certified astronaut who will never make it to space. Another case of cosmic irony, this time sadistic and cruel. How could the universe possibly let someone get so close to their dream before ripping it away? And why _Sokka?_

Zuko often wishes it were him instead. It’s a selfish desire; that way, he would not be forced to part with half of his heart and live as a single, undeveloped entity. Who on earth is Zuko without Sokka? He truly, genuinely, deeply does not know.

Zuko makes sense of his new reality with the one thing he knows best: space. When he has the energy to do something other than draw the curtains and lie in bed, Zuko reads about supermassive black holes. A region of spacetime where gravity is so strong that nothing, not even light itself can escape. Black holes are the aftermath of solar catastrophes, when large stars die and collapse.

With Sokka, Zuko was the earth. Without Sokka, he likens himself to pure nothingness. A black void. And as far as research goes, there’s no way to destroy those.

He’ll sometimes look to the moon at night, but doesn’t feel the same vigor to walk on it. Doing all of this— _this_ meaning devoting the past 20-some years of his life to becoming an astronaut—it wasn’t just about achieving a linear goal. For Zuko, becoming an astronaut wove itself into every other aspect of his life. It wove into making his very first friend, it wove into falling deeply in love, it wove into committing himself to the most amazing man he would ever know.

Zuko can’t have space and not have Sokka. The two don’t exist without each other. They haven’t for a very, very long time.

Soon enough, he draws the curtains at the first sign of dusk. He doesn’t want to see the moon. He doesn’t want to be reminded.

\---

Zuko is 43 years old. He’s selected for a mission to the moon. The purpose: traverse the lunar south pole and investigate the occurrence of water in permanently shadowed areas around it.

He’s supposed to feel something, he knows he is. But Zuko’s lived a long time without the better part of himself and has concluded that time doesn’t make everything better. Time jaded him just enough to make it through each day without paralyzing sadness, but offered nothing more.

The morning he arrives to the Kennedy Space Center in Florida, though, the persistent numbness in Zuko’s heart abates, if only a little. A feeling of awe slinks into his conscious; a disbelief that, wait a minute, this is _happening._ He’s not happy; Zuko hasn’t felt happiness in 13 years. But he feels—for the first time in a long time—something. A small, meek reminder of why he ever wanted to traverse space in the first place.

Once his pressure suit is built around him, Zuko loads into an Astrovan. As they round the corner to the launch pad, dawn breaches the night sky. And at last, lit up by the xenon lights, Zuko spots the spaceship that will carry him off the planet and into infinity. His eyes widen in astonishment and he looks to the empty seat next to him. He imagines Sokka right there, geared up and beaming as they take this step together.

But Sokka is gone. Reality hits Zuko quickly, though the blow has gone from a sharp pain to a familiar ache over his many years of enduring it.

He rides up an elevator with his two crewmates, each silent as they process their own worlds inside their heads. Zuko tries not to perseverate too hard on who should be with him in their stead. At the top, they crawl one by one into the spaceship, worming their way into their seats on their hands and knees. The hatch closes, and the countdown begins.

_10…9…8…_

Zuko’s mind transports him back to the first day of Space Camp. That special, once in a lifetime connection he made. The bright-eyed boys who had no idea what the universe had in store for them; who wanted to explore it together and figure that out for themselves.

_6…_

Zuko’s dream, now more than ever, is a tangible reality.

_4…_

He _is_ good enough. Just like Sokka always said.

_2…_

And Sokka would be so, _so_ proud.

\---

It takes them 3 days to make it to the moon. During that time, Zuko remembers what it’s like to feel. He truly forgot he could. Astonishment, excitement, _happiness..._ as they enter the depths of outer space, Zuko feels it all. 

His heart thrums in his chest as they land on the southern lunar surface, a sect of the moon he will be the first man to step foot on. The shuttle door opens, revealing a chalky, cratered surface for Zuko’s exploration. It’s in that moment he feels so much that he’s afraid he’ll burst. He feels, and feels, and feels. And he thinks of Sokka the entire time.

Thankfully, the tremor in his step isn’t visible through his pressure suit. He bumbles off the spaceship, finding his footing and exhaling a long, shaky breath. In one small step, everything he’s ever dreamt of has become a reality.

All of the emotions he’s repressed for the last decade plagues him as he traverses the dead volcanoes, the impact craters, the lava flows. He would give anything for Sokka to be right here with him. Anything in the universe.

As he gazes back at earth, 240,000 miles away, Zuko relives a thousand memories with Sokka. They share a thousand stolen glances, a thousand kisses, a thousand grins. But in the deafening silence of space, one particular memory latches onto Zuko’s heart, nearly bringing him to his knees.

For just a moment, Zuko is sat in his backyard on a midsummer night, setting up his very first telescope. All over again, he offers Sokka the first look and relishes in his appreciative smile. He feels the dewy, cool grass beneath his bare feet. He hears the summer crickets fill a comfortable silence; he smells the smokey nighttime air. And when Zuko closes his eyes and gives a shaky sigh, he feels his fingers intertwine with Sokka’s for the first time.

Now, from the void of space, Zuko imagines himself staring down the other end of that telescope. He imagines Sokka’s young face, awe-struck and agape as he looks through the small eyepiece and aches to stand where Zuko does now.

As though this weren’t a simple fantasy—as though _somehow,_ Zuko were really reaching into the past, communicating with these long-ago versions of themselves, Zuko waves. And in his mind, an enthralled little Sokka waves back.

“I made it, Sokka,” he says. “We made it.”

If the entire Houston control center hears him say that, then so be it.

Zuko fishes around his utility pocket for the little flag. Sokka may never walk on the moon, but this is the next best thing.

It’s tedious to hold the thin pole with his pressure gloves, but Zuko manages to bend down and stick it into the lunar surface. It’s small, it’s short, and it’s handmade. It’s a humble tribute to the love of his life, but Zuko’s heart swells with pride at the sight of it.

Sokka has his place on the moon, now. A permanent place. And it’s the best thing Zuko can think to give him.

He gives the little shrine one last look before turning away for the spaceship. Even in the realm of anti-gravity, the deed manages to make Zuko feel the slightest bit lighter.

Left in his stead is a small blue flag made from the fabric of Sokka’s flight suit. Written in the center, in Zuko’s handwriting, are two simple words.

_‘For Sokka.’_


End file.
